


Dudley Dursley and Nineteen Years

by Charonte_Queen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 20:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3394964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charonte_Queen/pseuds/Charonte_Queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened to the Dursleys after the Battle at Hogwarts? What became of Dudley? Find out how they all--except maybe Uncle Vernon--changed. But is it a change for the better? And what does their elderly neighbor Mrs. Figg know about all of this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dudley Dursley and Nineteen Years

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, another monster of a story that's been tickling my mind for some while. I've resisted it for so long...too long. Here's a taste of what I'm playing with! Enjoy. More to come hopefully, as I do not update all that often.

_**Chapter One** _

_**Return to Number Four** _

Number Four, Privet Drive had been vacant for many months. The neighbors had no idea what exactly happened to Number Four’s residents, but they were all sure they had heard from Petunia Dursley something about a much needed vacation. When they had returned, seemingly out of nowhere in the early morning hours, the neighbors greeted them with feigned vigor. They had all been rather happy to be rid of Vernon Dursley’s boasting and Petunia’s spying for a while. Dudley seemed to be the only person who wasn’t so happy to be back home.

He had said hello to his mates, Piers and Gordon, who had been on their way to see Peter when they saw Dudley out jogging. They asked little questions, but he had prepared answers for any question they might possibly have. When they had asked, “Where’s that runt you have for a cousin, Big D?” he had been caught completely off-guard. He simply shrugged and told them he needed to continue his run. After Dudley had jogged away, both boys silently agreed that there was something different about Dudley, but neither could place what. Maybe in the way he talked? Possibly in the way he walked?

Dudley continued his jog and, for what some would say for once in his life, thought. He couldn’t stop thinking. There was always something on his mind. Usually, it was boxing, his latest hobby. He had found an interest in it a few years ago—1995 to be exact—before he and his parents were whisked away and being kept in a safe house with Dedalus Diggle and Hestia Jones. But, when he wasn’t thinking about boxing, it was Harry Potter that was on his mind.

Harry Potter was Dudley’s seemingly insignificant cousin. Harry was small, a bit more on the scrawny side, with shaggy black hair, bright emerald green eyes, and round glasses. Harry seemed even smaller than he was when compared to Dudley, before and after he had started watching his weight and working out. But beyond appearances, it was actually Dudley who paled in comparison to his cousin. For you see, Harry Potter was a wizard. And not just any wizard—he was a very famous wizard. He had defeated Lord What’s-His-Face (Dudley, for the life of him, could never remember that horribly silly name) at only age one, and had obviously beat him again at age seventeen, for if he hadn’t Dudley and his parents would never have been let out of the safe house. Harry Potter was a very big deal in the wizarding world and a miracle in itself, though Dudley may not know that last part just yet.

Dudley had given Harry a very hard time when they were growing up. But about a little over two years ago, something happened to Dudley that changed the way he’d seen things. He just never really acted upon it, which he was starting to regret. The closest he ever came was telling Harry that he didn’t think he was a waste of space and Dudley really wished he could’ve said more. But he hadn’t, and he didn’t know if he’d ever see his cousin again. He didn’t even know if Harry was still alive.

By the time Dudley was able to steer his mind away from Harry, he found himself in the driveway of Number Four. His neighbor, Arabella Figg was out in her garden, watching him carefully. When he started to stare right back, she smiled that old grandmotherly smile and waved. Dudley gave a tight-lipped smile back and raised a sweaty hand in greeting. Hurrying inside, he went straight to the shower, not answering his mother’s question about his run. In fact, he barely spoke to either of his parents at all for fear he might slip up and ask something about Harry, which would send his father into a fury and his mother into tears.

Petunia Dursley had never particularly liked her nephew. He had reminded her much of her deceased younger sister, Lily, and Petunia despised Lily. That was what she told herself, at least. She found many nights a restless one, especially when they were in hiding. She would have dreams of her childhood, except she was the witch, and it was Lily calling her the freak. It was Petunia that had gone off to Hogwarts, that wizarding school and met James Potter and Lily was the one who had become nasty and bitter, dating Vernon. It was Petunia that their parents gushed over, and Lily was the one pushed to the shadows. It was Petunia who had gone and gotten herself blown up as she had once so elegantly put it, leaving her only son, Harry, on the doorstep of her bitter sister’s house.

She would always wake up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily, reminding herself that it was only a dream. She would be in such a shock that she’d find herself almost ringing Lily, just to make sure she was okay before remembering that she was gone. And then Petunia would become angry and have Harry do more chores than necessary, or—when they were in hiding—yell at Dedalus Diggle and Hestia Jones to let them out of the safe house every once in a while.

Lately, however, Petunia found herself wishing she could do it all over. Of course, she had too much pride to overcome years’ worth of abuse and do as Dudley had and at least somewhat apologize. She just knew that, if she could do it all over, she would do it differently. Now if only she could manage to utter out those words to Harry Potter.

Petunia busied herself in the kitchen when she heard the door open and close. She was at the entrance to kitchen faster than normal, hoping desperately that it was her nephew or someone who could at least tell her whether he was alive or not. But it was only Dudley, back from his jog. Petunia smiled and tried asking how his run went, knowing it was a feeble attempt to cover her disappointment. She knew Dudley was just as curious as she was about Harry, but both refused to bring up the subject and neither knew of anyone who could give them any news on him. They didn’t have an owl or anything to send off to Harry with a note attached to its leg, asking if he was okay and if he’d be coming back at all.

They all knew the answer to that question; no. Harry Potter, wherever he may be, would probably never want to return to Privet Drive again in his life.

Petunia returned to the kitchen to finish up dinner.

Vernon Dursley, unlike his wife and son, had no such qualms about the Potter boy. He wasn’t normal, and in a Dursley household, normalcy was a top priority. Harry Potter was as unDursleyish as one could be, something Vernon constantly reminded the boy of whenever he was there. Vernon took heart in the fact that he would never see the boy on his doorstep again—if he had his way, that is. Petunia had been unusually quiet about the situation with Potter, and Dudley was clearly all for having him return, even if briefly, a fact that Vernon pointedly ignored.

Business at Grunnings Drill firm was going rather poorly, in Vernon’s mind anyway. Without Vernon there to yell at everyone to do their job and do it right, the place had fallen to chaos—again, as Vernon saw it. In truth, without Mr. Dursley around to yell at other employees, they had relaxed and were able to get much more work done without the thought that Vernon might stuff his fat head inside their door and demand to know what they were doing and why they hadn’t done whatever it was right in the first place.

That was first evening back in Number Four, Privet drive in Little Whinging, Surrey, and was as normal as any other day, even more so seeing as Harry Potter was nowhere near Little Whinging. Just the way Vernon Dursley liked it.

 

* * *

 

Arabella Figg smiled to herself as she sat down at the kitchen table with a mug of freshly brewed tea and stared out the window overlooking the house across the street. The curtains were drawn back in the house, and Arabella could get a very clear view of what was happening inside. Petunia Dursley had made a large dinner for her very large men, one more fat than muscle and the other quite the opposite, and Vernon and Dudley were seated around the small table staring in awe at the delectable meal which was laid out in front of them.

Chuckling, Arabella turned to the parchment and in set out in front of her. She smiled as she continued her letter to one Mr. Harry Potter.

_**Dear Harry,** _

_**I am pleased to inform you of your aunt, uncle, and cousin's safe return to Number Four. It is as though they had never left, though I'm sure some of the neighbors wish they had, if you know what I mean.** _

_**Dudley seems to be very concerned for you. As he was jogging earlier today I couldn't help but overhear him speak of you. Maybe someone should tell him of your well-being? I'm sure he'd be pleased to hear from you, if you wish to take my advice and send him an owl or a letter through Muggle post. But, it is your decision of course Harry.** _

**_Sincerely,_ **

**_Arabella Figg_ **

* * *


End file.
